It's a Matter of Trust
by Caseyrocksmore
Summary: Kurt doesn't like being tickled. When their dorm overhears them yelling, people jump to conclusions and it becomes a huge misunderstanding. Est. Klaine


_Written for a prompt on the Glee Angst Meme: "TL;DR Blaine tickles Kurt, who hates being tickled. Passerby's overhear Kurt and Blaine's following screaming match and think that Blaine sexually assaulted Kurt. After Blaine is left alone with the angry mob for a few minutes, all is cleared up and Blaine and Kurt talk it out."_

* * *

**It's a Matter of Trust**

* * *

It was late, almost time for lights-out and bed check, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to care all that much. He was pressed firmly against his boyfriend's side, warm and content, as the credits of Blaine's favourite Disney movie rolled across the screen of the laptop perched on Blaine's knees. They hadn't been dating long, only a few weeks, and it was nice to just be able to sit together and watch a movie without any of the numerous interruptions they were used to. Without the fear of Blaine's roommate walking in on them— he was on a family vacation in Florida and wouldn't return to Dalton for another few days— they could just lie like this, curled into each other comfortably, until the hall prefect kicked Kurt out at eleven during bed check.

Blaine closed the lid of his computer slowly, and then moved it off his lap to rest on his bedside table. He smiled mischievously at Kurt, winding his arms around him tightly and holding him close. "You look sleepy," he said quietly, his voice a low hum against the silence of his dorm room.

"Mm-hmm," Kurt agreed, nuzzling into the curve of Blaine's neck.

"I know what'll wake you up," Blaine continued, the edge of a laugh just barely touching the last two words.

Soundlessly, he laid Kurt down, moving to be above him in a literal sense of the word. Kurt didn't open his eyes, but rather tilted his face up to receive the kiss he assumed his boyfriend would give him. Instead, a giggle erupted from his throat as he felt Blaine's nimble fingers dance along his ribcage.

"Hey!" Kurt spluttered, trying to sit up. Blaine pushed him back down, a grin on his face as he continued to tickle up and down Kurt's sides. With a laugh, Kurt said, "Cut it out!" and gently shoved at his boyfriend's shoulder. "Stop!"

Shaking his head so that his hair, loose and curly and from the day's wear-and-tear, moved against his forehead, Blaine grabbed Kurt's hands and held them down against the mattress with his knees as he swung a leg over Kurt to straddle his waist. "Nuh-uh sleepy head," he said, still grinning manically as his fingers methodically worked their way under Kurt's button-down to tickle mercilessly against bare skin.

Kurt squirmed, trying not to laugh. "Stop, Blaine," he said as seriously as he could, but the fingers at his side— rough and calloused from years of playing the guitar— made him laugh the words, growing more breathless . "Please stop it!"

He was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, and then suddenly, he _couldn't_ breathe and fear coiled in the pit of his stomach. His squirming became writhing and his laughter became coughs and wheezes for breath, unable to fill his lungs properly. _This _was why he didn't like being tickled. It always made his chest constrict uncomfortably, like an asthma attack. He never really had a problem with it after his mother's death, because he hadn't really been touchy-feely with his dad or any of his— admittedly few— friends, and Mercedes hadn't tried to tickle him after he told her it bothered him.

But he was feeling like that again, his laughter desperate as he tried to shove Blaine off of him, no longer playful but seriously. But Blaine didn't seem to notice, his fingers unrelenting in their dance across his skin.

"No! Stop!" Kurt wheezed between bouts of unstoppable, _painful_ laughter, tears in his eyes.

Blaine was still laughing, oblivious as he held Kurt down and forced the laughter from him. He didn't take the complaints seriously as he methodically tortured his boyfriend through tickle-fighting— an activity he often participated in with his brother and sister, and with his good friends at Dalton when they had sleepovers. Shouts of '_no!_' and '_stop!_' were completely normal in such fights, nothing to be taken seriously. Tears of laughter, too, were quite normal. He didn't even realise anything was wrong until Charlie, the hall prefect, knocked on the door and he let up on his tickling and shifted enough for Kurt to get his hands free.

Gasping loudly, he shoved Blaine off of him just as Charlie opened the door, which wouldn't have been all that strange an occurrence— Charlie had walked in on couples doing worse, after all— if it wasn't for the resounding _smack!_ of Kurt's open palm hitting Blaine's cheek just a moment after.

"You _bastard_," he choked, his diaphragm contracting wildly as he fought to catch his breath. He jumped off the bed and all but scrambled to the door, held open by Charlie's lax hand. His mouth hung open and his eyes were wide with shock at the fight he was witnessing.

"What the _hell,_ Kurt?" Blaine yelled back, jumping off the bed too and grabbing Kurt's arm before he could get out of the doorway. Charlie took a step back into the hall, his face a mixture of anger and worry as he contemplated getting involved.

"Guys—" he started, unsure of what was happening. He'd never seen them fight before, never seen Kurt with wild, blood-shot eyes and he yanked his arm free of his boyfriend's grasp and backed up like a startled animal. His face was blotchy and red, and tears were still streaming over his cheeks as his chest heaved and he tried to breathe, gasping. His clothes were rumpled and untucked, his hair a mess and the lower buttons on his shirt undone.

"I told you to _stop!_" he practically sobbed, making a break for the hallway once he was out of Blaine's grip. Blaine followed him, his eyes wide with guilt and concern.

By now, boys from all down the hallway were sticking their heads out of their doors to see what was going on. Some of them were bleary-eyed with sleep-mussed hair, others perfectly groomed as though just about to get into bed. All looked confused when they saw it was Kurt and Blaine yelling at each other in the hallway.

"I didn't know you meant it!" Blaine pleaded uselessly, making a grab for Kurt again. Kurt rounded on him, eyes wild with fury as he took a deep breath.

"So when someone yells 'no!' and 'please stop!' while in tears, you're unsure as to what they mean?" he demanded loudly, barely noticing the commotion they were making.

"I..." Blaine froze, as though running through the evening in his head. He opened his mouth to say more, perhaps apologise, but Kurt beat him to it.

"'No' means '_no_,' Blaine. I can't believe you! I thought I could _trust_ you," Kurt sobbed bitterly, wrapping his arms around himself as he turned on his heels and all but ran towards the communal bathroom at the end of the hall, steeling himself for the worst. He knew he must look like a mess— he was crying, and his complexion must be awful and, _oh God_, his _hair_...

Every boy in the hallway, in various states of undress and sleepiness, looked toward Blaine as though they were a collective mind. He stood stalk still in the middle of the hallway, his clothes and hair in disarray, and his chest hurting with guilt. He hadn't meant for it to be like that, to push Kurt, but it had just happened. He hadn't even realised that what Kurt was saying was serious; he was so used to his older brother doing the same to him, he had just assumed...

"I'm going to see if Kurt's okay," Wes told David quietly, slipping out of the door to their dorm room and walking steadily toward the bathroom. Every other boy seemed to take this as some kind of cue to blow up at Blaine— Charlie the loudest.

"I can't believe you!" Charlie growled, grabbing Blaine (his friend for _years!_) by the shoulder and thrusting him backwards so that he hit the hallway's wall, knocking a painting askew with his shoulder blade. "How could you?"

The other boys started yelling at him similarly, some even spitting obscenities at Blaine while he leaned against the wall, aghast. It hit him like a punch to the stomach what they all must think; what Charlie thought he'd _walked in on_. Hurriedly, Blaine tried to explain, but his words and gestures were lost to the yelling around him as he was backed into a corner by some of his closest friends.

* * *

"Kurt?"

Wes tentatively opened the bathroom door and stepped inside, unsure of what he'd find. Kurt was standing over a sink in the corner, his chest heaving as he furiously wiped at his tears. Wes's heart went out to the guy, even if they weren't exactly friends. What Blaine had done was inexcusable, and almost _unfathomable_, considering how long Wes had known him, how long _they_ had been friends.

"Are you alright?"

Kurt sniffled and his shoulders tightened, his back going rigid as he looked over his shoulder at Wes.

"I'm fine," he said quietly and turned back to the sink, his voice hoarse from yelling at his boyfriend. He was going to regret that later, the yelling, but he had just been so _angry_ that Blaine wasn't listening to him, and—

"Do you need to go to the hospital? I can drive you, if you want."

Kurt frowned and turned to look properly at Wes. Wes was probably one of his least favourite people at Dalton; he'd always gotten the impression that the Warbler Council didn't like him and his ideas very much, so he'd tried to stay out of their way since Sectionals, for the most part. But it always seemed as though Wes wanted to tell him off for something or other, and they didn't get along as well as Kurt did with most of the other Warblers. So why was he standing in the bathroom with a caring expression on his face, his voice soft and comforting as he offered to drive Kurt to the hospital? It just didn't make sense.

"I don't need to go to the hospital," Kurt said slowly, his brows pushing together to in confusion.

Wes sighed, looking relieved. "Oh, good. So Blaine didn't...?" He looked to Kurt to finish the sentence, his eyes pleading. Kurt just frowned.

"Didn't...?"

"Y'know." Kurt shook his head the slightest bit, raising his eyebrows. Wes lowered his voice and hunched his shoulders as he finished, "..._rape_ you?"

Kurt's jaw dropped and his heart began to thump in his chest wildly. "_What?_" he demanded, and Wes looked startled at the ferocity of his tone. "Why would you even _think _that?"

"You said in the hallway—" Wes cut himself off, his own eyebrows coming together as he stared at Kurt. "And everyone just assumed... What _exactly_ did you say 'no' to?"

"He was sitting on my chest tickling me!" Kurt said hurriedly, looking even more frazzled than before. "What do you mean by '_everyone?_' Blaine didn't— he _wouldn't_—"

"He didn't... sexually assault you?"

"No! Of course not!"

Wes looked stricken. "Uh oh." He turned and ran back out of the bathroom, his eyes immediately zeroing in on the angry mob of teenage boys at the end of the hall. "Hey! Stop!"

Kurt followed him quickly, his heart racing as he realised what was going on. "Guys! Guys!" he yelled, the high, unique tone of his voice drawing the boys attention. They all fell silent as Kurt ran to them, shoving his way through the mob until they moved out of his way.

"Jesus, Blaine, are you alright?"

Blaine was on the floor, his back against the wall and bleeding from a split lip that a wayward elbow had caused him. He looked up at Kurt tearfully, looking more pale and shaken than physically injured, which was a good sign. "I'm okay," he breathed, reaching out to Kurt. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, taking Blaine's hand and pulling him to his feet.

"Kurt, I am so sorry," Blaine said almost frantically, pulling Kurt close and squeezing his hand. "You know I'd never hurt you on purpose. I am so, so sorry."

"It's okay," Kurt reassured him.

"You're just _forgiving_ him?" yelled one of the boys, Wyatt, if Kurt wasn't mistaken, in an outrage. The other boys murmured their agreements, and Kurt was about to defend his boyfriend, but Wes beat him to the punch.

"You guys are all _idiots_," he declared, shaking his head. "You all jumped to conclusions. Blaine didn't hurt Kurt."

"I _saw _him—!" Charlie interjected, but Blaine cut him off.

"You saw me _tickling_ him!" he yelled at the group of boys, whose anger immediately deflated upon hearing his words. "I was only _tickling_ him!" he turned to Kurt, some of the colour returning to his cheeks. "And he didn't want to be tickled, and I should have listened to him. And I'm _sorry._"

The boys were silent, guilty expressions on all their faces as what they'd accused Blaine— their friend for _years_— of sunk in. Blaine wrapped his arms around himself protectively, and Kurt laid a hand on his shoulder.

Charlie cleared his throat awkwardly, remembering that he was in charge, and began ushering the boys back to their dorm rooms. "Come on, you lot. Nothing to see here. It's over, okay? Go back to bed."

Wes and David stayed behind, digging their toes awkwardly into the carpet. "Blaine, I'm sorry I said—" David started in earnest, but Blaine just held up his hand to stop him.

"I know. And I... appreciate you sticking up for Kurt, when you thought I'd hurt him." Kurt's mouth fell open to protest, but he didn't let him get a word in. "But can you leave us alone now, please? I think Kurt and I need to have a talk."

The boys both nodded and headed back to their dorm room silently, shoulders slumped. Charlie returned and nodded when Blaine made a gesture to indicate he was taking Kurt back into his room, not protesting the breaking of rules, considering what had transpired. He knew Kurt well enough that he knew after they talked it out he would return to his own room; he was never one to purposefully break rules, unlike most of the other boys he prefected for.

With a hand lightly pressed to the small of Kurt's back, Blaine led him back into his room, switching on the lights that they'd had off to watch the movie. He didn't close the door all the way, so that Kurt knew he could leave any time he wanted to. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.

"Kurt," he said as soon as they were inside, "I'm sorry I didn't listen when you said 'no.' I'm used to that being standard in tickle-fights and it didn't even occur to me that— anyway. I'm sorry if I hurt you. Are you sure you're okay?"

Blaine eyes were wide and pleading, begging for forgiveness that Kurt wasn't sure he was ready to give. He was _angry_; he could have had an asthma attack and _died _because it didn't occur to his boyfriend that crying was not a normal response to being tickled.

So he nodded instead of really answering, reaching out to press his thumb against the cut on Blaine's lip. Blaine hissed in pain, reaching up to touch the cut himself. "You're the one who's bleeding," Kurt said unnecessarily, quickly reaching for the box of tissues on Blaine's roommate's beside table to wipe his fingers and then offered it to Blaine, who pressed one to his lip to stem the bleeding.

Blaine sighed. "I can't believe they thought I was capable of—" He trailed off and sat down on the edge of his bed, still pressing the tissue to his lower lip. "You know I'd never do that, right?"

Kurt stared down at his socked feet. "Well..."

"Kurt, I would _never—_!"

"I know," Kurt interrupted him, "I _know_, but... you scared me." At Blaine's imploring gaze, Kurt sighed and ran a hand through his hair, only serving to mess it up further. "I know you'd never do that, but when you were tickling me, I couldn't... I couldn't _breathe_, and I wasn't strong enough to get you off of me, and that's... _terrifying_. And you know that I love you..."

"I love you too," Blaine said breathlessly, removing the compress from his lip and standing up, moving like he was going to hug Kurt but then hanging back when he saw Kurt wasn't finished.

"You _know_ that I love you," Kurt repeated, his voice becoming stern as he chastised his boyfriend, "But you _have_ to listen to me when I say things like that. 'No' really does mean 'no' for me. I don't joke around when it comes to things like that. I have to know that I can trust you."

"You can trust me, Kurt," Blaine said quietly, approaching Kurt slowly, like he didn't want to scare Kurt away. "You can trust me. This won't ever happen again, not ever."

"What if we had been making out?" Kurt asked suddenly, his voice becoming higher as he fiddled with the sleeve of his button-down nervously and glanced away from Blaine, his throat becoming tight as began to tear up. "What if we had been making out, and you'd done something that I wasn't ready for and I said 'no'—"

"That's different, Kurt!" Blaine interjected, reaching out to grab Kurt's hand. "I would _never_—"

"It isn't." He paused, shaking his head and looking up to meet Blaine's eyes. "It isn't different. I need to _know_ that I can trust you when it comes to those _other things_, but how can I when you didn't listen to me when we were just goofing off?"

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hand, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "You can trust me, Kurt. I will always listen to you, from now on. I promise, Kurt. I _swear_."

He pulled Kurt against his chest gently, and Kurt let go of his hand to wrap his arms around Blaine's neck, hugging him. He felt so emotionally drained, as though all the energy had been zapped from him.

"I am going to do everything I can to regain your trust, you got that?" Blaine mumbled into Kurt's hair, pressing a kiss to his temple and holding him close. "Because I love you so much."

Kurt sighed and dropped his head onto Blaine's shoulder. "I love you, too."


End file.
